WE HAVE NO SLEEP

All forms of farewell without touching

have been forgotten. We think of tomorrow,

as we feed the swans

with yesterday’s bread. From our memory

flows water enough to sustain several

fields of wheat. We watch how the rain

repeats itself immaculately, stealing

the dust. We have no sleep,

belong to no one night

nor any candle can lengthen

our shadows onto the walls of the wind.